Unpublished
by Sherlock221
Summary: After Sherlock's death, John writes blogs about him, but he never publishes them. A series of one-shots.
1. Chapter 1

A/N This one-shot takes places one year after his 'death'. Enjoy!

John's POV

**Unpublished**

There was a time when you knew everything about me, Sherlock. Even when I didn't. You could take one look at me and tell what kind of day I was having. You would tell me what kind of feelings I was having as if they were a clear picture painted on my face. Most of the time I was unaware of those feelings. That's what kept me up at night. You could see straight through me. Or rather, straight into me.

Ironically, I kind of miss that, even after a year. As annoying as it was, I was always fascinated by you. Your mind. Though I vocalized my thoughts on your deductions on almost a daily basis, I can't help but feel I didn't tell you enough. Tell you how amazing you are; were.

I wish you were here to tell me what kind of day I was having, because I don't really know anymore.

A/N Please let me know what you thought and if you would like me to continue this as a series on one-shots.


	2. Chapter 2

I stared down at the barrel of my gun for two hours last night. You're voice is the only thing that stopped me. I could hear you as if you were in the room with me. "_What a boring way to die, John."_

If you want to leave, then leave. Get out of my head, Sherlock. I've already lost you once and I cannot bear to do it again. Get out of my head. I'm trying not to care anymore; To make it easier. You took yourself away from me. You made that choice. Not me. And you left me here to pick up the pieces. The broken pieces of my heart. I'm rotting from the inside, out.


	3. Chapter 3

_John's POV_

**Unpublished**

I don't need you, you bastard. I'm trying so hard to be angry with you. What you did to me, killing yourself, was wrong. You bastard. I'm furiously angry, but not with you. How can I be? There has to be something I did or did not do. I could not make you stay with me. Why?


	4. Chapter 4

**John's POV**

I spent three hours in the tub scrubbing my skin raw and pink, trying to erase your fingerprints, trying to wash the memory of you down the drain. It did not work. By the end, the bath water was tinted red, but still, I could feel you. I started to sob in the cold water, but no tears came out. I think they've run out.


	5. Chapter 5

Please, don't leave me, Sherlock. The image of you is fading and it's getting harder to see you in my dreams. Your face has become a fuzzy image. It kills me. It's like losing you all over again.

I need you. Come back to me. Don't be dead.

The ache of missing you sinks into my marrow and I can't stop my bones from feeling like splinters. When will the thought of you leave my head? How can you want something to end so bad, knowing you will miss it when it is gone?

Truth is, I'm not doing well. I'm losing myself. I know if you were here, you would call me stupid for my sentiment. I've never wanted to be insulted so badly.


	6. Chapter 6

John's POV

**Unpublished**

All life is precious. Don't let it take a tragedy for you to realize that. That was my mistake. I should have cherished the moments. Those precious moments.

Chasing down criminals. Your body beneath my healing hands when you had done something stupid. Was that the only time I was useful to you? Patching you up. Readying you for the next time that you went chasing down murderers alone and coming home bloody and beaten.

And then you stupid bloody bastard had to go and do something that my hands could not fix.

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A/N Please let me know what you thought!


	7. Chapter 7

_John's POV_

**Unpublished**

I visited your grave today. Sat against the headstone, downed a bottle of whiskey. I screamed and cried like I always do, but I'm not sure if that was in my head or out loud. It doesn't matter anyway. No one was around to hear.

I contemplated digging up your casket, just to make sure you are really in there.

I sat there until the sky went dark. Eventually, I heard a car and saw an umbrella walking towards me for the first time since your death. You would be happy, Sherlock. I punched Mycroft in the face.

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A/N Please let me know what you thought!


	8. Chapter 8

_John's POV_

**Unpublished**

It's quiet. Incredibly so. Without you here. I hate the silence. I hate not hearing you screeching on your violin to annoy me. I hate waking up screaming from a nightmare and not hearing you soothing me back to sleep with your beautiful music. The nightmares aren't even about the war anymore. It's you. It's always you whispering "_Goodbye John," _in my ear. I always wake up screaming your name. The nightmares are excruciating, but at least they are the reason I still say your name every day.


	9. Chapter 9

_John's POV_

**Unpublished**

I still feel your presence in my sleep. I'm trying to remember you and let go of you at the same time. The latter feels impossible. Your absence keeps me up at night. I guess, in a way, it is a better alternative to the nightmares.

Silence isn't silent anymore. But honestly, has it ever been? There's always a noise to be picked up; creaks, frequencies, decibels. Your voice has banished them all; it has been bouncing around in my head for so long that I'm not even sure it sounds like you anymore. I tried to call your cell, just to hear your voice telling my incompetent self to leave a message. Pathetic, isn't it? But, the phone blatantly informed me that it is no longer in service. Much like you, isn't it? Out of service.


End file.
